


How It Works

by fits_in_frames



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-29
Updated: 2007-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 12:04:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1549844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fits_in_frames/pseuds/fits_in_frames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He zips up and starts to walk out, when the door swings open and Sam is there, with wild fury in his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How It Works

It happens on the sixth day.

They stop for gas outside a town in the middle of fucking nowhere in South Dakota, and Dean has to piss like a race horse, so he leaves Sam to scam the counter help. He thinks about Sammy while he pees, thinks about him in the same way he's thought about him since he was seventeen and woke up from a dream about him with a boner. Now, it's almost surreal, having him back, and Sam clings worse than a fuckin' baby koala. Not that he minds, of course. It's just weird.

He zips up and starts to walk out, when the door swings open and Sam is there, with wild fury in his eyes.

"Fuck you," Sam says, barely above a whisper, grabs Dean's collar, shoves him against the wall, and kisses him. Sam tastes like--well, fuck, he tastes like _Sam_ , but he also tastes like something else, something Dean can't put his finger on. It feels good, having his brother's mouth on his again.

"Fuck me?" Dean says when Sam pauses to take a breath. He quirks his mouth into a devilish smile, and Sam bares his teeth just slightly.

"Yes," Sam says, ghosting his lips against Dean's cheekbones. "Fuck. You."

"Why now, Sammy?" Dean's always been the one to make the moves on Sam, starting way back when--whenever the fuck it started. He's not used to being passive. He kind of likes it.

"I don't know," Sam says, darting his tongue over the end of Dean's nose. "Just. Fuck you."

"Okay," Dean says, and then Sam's mouth is on his (licorice, Dean thinks, he tastes like fucking licorice) and Sam's fingers are fumbling with his belt buckle and the button on his jeans and oh my God, Dean just knows he is going to get blown--by his brother, his fucking _baby_ brother Sammy--right here and right now. And that's okay by him.

Sam falls to his knees and looks up at Dean with those puppy-dog eyes, and Dean has to look away and bite his lip to stop himself from barking out a laugh. He feels Sam's warm breath on his cock, and he knows that Sam is waiting for permission. That's how it works, see, so he pulls himself together long enough to choke out, "Don't just stare at it, eat it." God, he needs to stop watching that fucking movie, but it's always on late at night when he's not sleeping. And there's Sam's mouth and he forgets everything else.

It turns out Sam is out of practice and this is the worst fucking blowjob he's ever gotten in his life. For one, he's pinned against the wall (Sam's thumb rests lazily on his naked hip bone, and yes, that's enough) in a seedy roadside men's room. Sam's all sloppy and his tongue is little more than a trench for Dean's dick and fucking hell, there's teeth and Dean has to yelp three times before they get out of the way. He half-wants it to stop, but then he looks down and--no. If it were anyone else, maybe he would say something, but no--just, no. He swallows his words and tugs on Sammy's short, dark hair and moans out not-words, things like _missedyou_ and _fuckinhell_ and _sammysammysammysammy_. And then--miraculously, somehow--he feels it, right underneath his Adam's apple, that fuzzy hotness and oh god, he's going to come, he's going to come inside this old-but-new mouth and he jerks his knee, just like usual, but Sam doesn't get the message, so he pulls his cock out on his own and closes his eyes and comes--really hard, too--on his brother's face for what seems like forever.

He opens his eyes. Sam is scrambling over to the nearest stall, which he slams shut before Dean can even pull his pants up. He paces over and leans his shoulder against the space between doors, pressing his cheek against the cool metal. It feels good on his flushed skin, and then Sammy moans. God, it's been so long since he heard that little whimper rattling around in Sam's throat, and his cock twitches feebly. There's something new hitting Dean's ear--a kind of breathy, nasally, strangled growl that resonates inside Sam's chest for a second before leaping out--and he likes it, but then Sam pants once, twice, three times, and goes quiet.

Without moving, Dean says, "You okay in there, Sammy?"

"Nghhh," Sam says pathetically, and that means yes.

"I'll be outside," Dean says, and pushes himself to stand upright again.

He starts the car, and waits, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel along with the gritty rumble of the engine. Sam comes out after a few minutes, wrenches the car door open and sits down like a ton of bricks.

"You okay?" Dean asks, not putting the car into gear just yet. He feels good, refreshed, recovered. Sam looks like he just swallowed a goldfish.

"Yeah," Sam says, staring out the window and propping his elbow on the armrest. "Let's get out of here."

Dean pulls out of the gas station and doesn't ask any more.


End file.
